


Problem Solver

by khooliha



Category: Scream (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Murder, Pragmatism, briefly described gore, damnation, grim bargains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:51:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2609177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khooliha/pseuds/khooliha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murders just keep happening in Woodboro and Sidney Prescott is sick enough of it to take some... initiative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Problem Solver

**Author's Note:**

> This short fic takes place about a two years after Scream 3.

The stink of blood filled the small room and Dewey Riley tasted both iron and bile at the back of his throat. He wished he wasn’t here, that he was anywhere else, but it seemed that his life didn’t work like that. 

No, his life was a cycle that could not be stopped. The crumpled young man, dead from half a dozen stab wounds, was the sign of the cycle starting again. 

The high schooler’s name had been Steve Paulson, a fact that pierced through the fog of Dewey’s mind. SP, of course. He wasn’t the only one stuck in a cycle. 

He managed to tell an officer about the initial connection between this new victim and former Woodsboro resident Sidney Prescott before staggering away from the scene. He stepped out of the rush of people and dialed Gale. 

The conversation was terse, a handful of words outlining the whole of the situation. She was to pack, to get ready to leave, and he would be there in minutes. They’d decide where they were going once they had left – they didn’t want to make even the vaguest of plans where anyone else could hear them. The paranoia made Dewey sick, but the fear made him sicker, the pounding of it, a situation he had never gotten used to. He had one more phone call to make. 

Sidney Prescott’s phone just rang a handful of times before shunting him to an impersonal voice mail. Dewey felt frustration surge through him even though the situation was not at all surprising. Honestly he was surprised that she still had a phone at all. Not answering was more than reasonable. 

“Sid, it’s Dewey. There’s been another murder, I think it’s starting again. You should get hidden and stay that way. You… you don’t have to call back. Be careful Sid.” His voice shook the whole message and he hung up with a rush of senseless anger. He had no reason no reason for rage, none at all. Still, he squeezed down on his phone and gritted his teeth. Fear and useless worry stabbed at him. “C’mon Sid…”

“C’mon what?” responded at voice to his left, causing Dewey to jump. He whirled in its direction and his face went white. Sidney was standing there on the sidewalk, duffle bag held in one hand, framed by the setting sun. Dewey rushed to her as fast as he could and fought the urge to grab her. 

“What are you doing here?” he hissed out. Sidney’s face betrayed nothing and she looked him squarely in the eye. He noticed that she didn’t seem the slightest bit afraid. Dewey felt a chill run down his spine and tried to shake it off. 

“I was needed.” 

“Needed? Needed?! Sid, some fucker is killing people again! Some asshole-“ But he stopped suddenly when he realized that Sidney was still looking at him calmly. “Sid, did you hear me?” 

“I got it Dewey. That’s why I needed to come back.” 

“What?” Dewey felt like the ground was tilting under his feet. “That doesn’t make any sense Sid! You need to leave stuff like this to the police.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly. “You need to leave! We all do!” 

Sidney grabbed him back and they stared at one another. “I will. There’s just something I have to do first.” Dewey was set to keep arguing but she slipped from his grasp, grabbed her bag, and marched off. Dewey was left slightly dazed in the middle of the sidewalk. He fished in his pocket for his phone. 

Gale answered the phone with a suspicious silence, letting whoever was on the other end speak first. Dewey wished he didn’t understand. “Gale, Sid is here.” 

“What? Why?” Now that she was sure she wasn’t speaking to a murderer Gale’s words came out fast and angry. 

“She says there’s something she needs to do,” Dewey said, still not believing it. 

“That doesn’t make any sense at all! None!” 

“I know that.” He paused, staring off down the darkening street. “Gale, I don’t know where she went, but she just wandered off and I can’t leave her alone out here.” He could feel Gale about to argue, but then she just huffed in irritation. 

“Fine, go. Just be fucking careful, alright?” 

“You can leave ahead of me-“

“No chance,” she cut him off. “I’ll pack some shit for you. Get your ass back here quick. Drag Sidney if you have to.” She hung up with no preamble, something she did if she was angry. She was angry a lot and Dewey was used to it. He took off down the street as quickly as he could, keeping his eyes peeled for Sidney. Or for murderers. 

Thankfully, and irritatingly, he didn’t catch sight of either. The sky had been reddening steadily, but now it was turning purple as well. Street lights had not been enough illumination for a long while now, but Dewey persevered. At this point he felt like he didn’t have a choice. Giving up, laying down, even running, all had been disallowed by someone, somewhere. It was easier to be more grounded in the bright light of day, when the stench of blood wasn’t still in his nose. 

It was night before he caught up with her, panting and trying to ignore his burning muscles. He crested a hill and looked down on a local park and there she was, sitting on a park bench, outlined in the stark light of some street lamps, doing nothing. No, not quite nothing. She was waiting, he could feel it. 

He tried to call her name, but he didn’t have his breath back and it came out as a wheeze and she didn’t look up. Gritting his teeth Dewey began to make his way down the hill. He was tired and Sidney seemed much further away than she actually was. He decided to not try calling out again, conserving his energy and breath instead. 

He was halfway down the hill when movement in the shadows caused him to freeze. It was an animal, it had to be an animal, but it was too big. Too human. There was another flash of movement and now the street light flashed off of the pale, familiar mask of the murderer. Dewey blinked hard, trying to banish the vision, his paranoia, but this wasn’t paranoia’s fault. The figure was moving towards Sidney and she was still oblivious to what was happening. Seemingly bored she stood and stretched, meandering around the bench where she had been sitting. Even as far distant as he was Dewey heard her phone ring. This time she answered. 

Dewey drew a deep breath and screamed. “Sidney!” He was moving too, thumping awkwardly down the hill, even though it was impossible for him to reach her before the killer did. Dewey saw the flash of a drawn knife. He drew another breath to call to Sidney again but it was too late. 

He watched it happen in slow motion – Sidney finally turned and faced her attacker and before she could react at all the knife went back and plunged forward, angled, directly into her chest. The moment was oddly silent. Sidney didn’t cry out and Dewey couldn’t. He waited to see her crumple, fall, but she didn’t. No. 

Instead, from around the hilt of the knife, a darkness bloomed. Not blood, Dewey realized distantly, but something blacker than night. It swirled and coalesced in the air somehow and he wondered if he was gone now, if seeing Sidney’s murder had tipped him over some unseen edge. 

But the killer was reacting too, pulling back and letting the knife clatter to the sidewalk. They took one step back and was working on taking another when the expanding darkness reached out to them. It had hands now, tipped with claws, and they closed around the arms of the murderer and drew their thrashing form back towards Sidney. 

Dewey didn’t blink but he felt like he had because the dark cloud had a form now. It looked… human or humanoid at least, though it still had the wispiness of a cloud. Or a genie he thought wildly. It had the face of a person and also of one of those deep sea fish – large, milk white eyes and needle teeth set in a too wide mouth. That mouth opened as the killer was pulled closer. 

The silence was finally broken as the masked killer screamed once, and then there was a wet tearing sound as the creature tore into them. Dewey realized he was running flat out again, towards the grisly tableau, which was fairly surprising. If you had asked him which way he would run he would have said the opposite direction. Sidney was still standing in the lamp light and he could see that her face had been sprayed with blood. The dark shape around her dropped the remains of the killer and began to carefully lick its claws with a thin, sinuous tongue. Sidney still looked serene and the expression caused Dewey to pull up short. 

After a moment she turned to look at his wheezing form and he filled with terror that the thing around her was going to attack him as well. He probably wouldn’t be able to get away if it wanted him. It didn’t move though, just continued to encircle Sidney. 

“Are you alright Dewey?” she asked, sounding concerned, actually concerned. 

“Sid!” he spat in disbelief, shuffling backwards a bit. “Sid, what the fuck is that thing?!” 

She turned her head slightly and looked into the pale eyes of the thing. Then she shrugged, slightly apologetically. “It’s a demon.” 

The rest of the world seemed muted and Dewey finally blinked, rapidly now, trying to clear up this nonsense. “Sid that isn’t possible.” 

“I was tired of being afraid Dewey – I was tired of hiding and cowering and just reacting. So I went out and I found something to keep me safe – not a gun or a security system or anything like that since all that shit’s failed me before. I found an actual solution.” As she spoke the smoking form kept its eye on Dewey and he found himself meeting its gaze. To his horror he felt his instincts relaxing, the adrenaline cooling in his system. He focused on the blood on Sidney’s face, trying to stay sharp. It was difficult. 

“What did you do Sid?” he whispered, not able to drag his eyes away from the demon. “What did you have to do?” 

“It’s not that bad a bargain,” she said, shrugging again. “I won’t be murdered and I’ll probably live a good long time, so having to become a demon at the end of it all isn’t so bad.” Dewey blanched and drew back further. His strength and breath were returning and he could probably try to make a run for it. If he thought he could make it. Which he didn’t. 

She reached out to him but he dodged her grasp. Still, he didn’t run. “It works well,” she continued, voice growing firmer. “It handled the incident at home-“

Now Dewey felt a new, different rush of fear and concern and rage. He cut her off. “When was this?! You didn’t tell me? Tell anyone?” He stepped forward and, unthinking, reached out and grabbed Sidney’s shoulders. His hands passed easily through the smoky body of the demon and its formed settled over the backs of his hands, cool and not unpleasant. Tendrils crept up his arms but he didn’t notice. He had eyes only for Sidney’s bloody face, thinking of someone tracking down her home, breaking in, stalking her through her safe space. His heart hammered in his chest with fury and anxiety. 

“The demon took care of it. I didn’t tell anyone. That’s why, when I found out about the murder here, I came back. So I could sort it out before more people got hurt.” 

Dewey squinted at her. “How did you hear so quickly?” She cast a sideways glance at the demon and Dewey finally noticed that he was touching the thing, or that the thing was touching him, and he pulled back in fear. 

“You get a… knack for murder when it keeps happening. You feel it too, right?” Dewey’s face twisted in distaste, but he remembered the feeling of weight in the pit of his stomach since he woke up this morning, a sick dread that had culminated at the call about the murder. He had written it off as paranoia, but now he wasn’t sure. The demon looked at him with what he imagined was curiosity. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. 

“I also wanted to come back to…” She hesitated and now the demon moved, leaning out further from Sidney’s frame, reaching carefully for Dewey. He froze, not wanting to be touched but also not wanting to set it off. The touch was still cool and he closed his eyes. They had been drawn once again to the demon’s eyes and he didn’t want that. Suddenly he was certain that he knew what Sidney was going to say. 

“I came back to offer you and Gale the same protection. I know how to do it, what rituals you need. You’ll be safe and you won’t have to worry anymore. You’ll be free.” He opened his eyes and saw how determined she looked. He felt the demon touching his shoulder. He had a momentary flash of a future without fear, of freedom. Then, suddenly, he saw the situation from the eyes of the demon, of some other soul so desperate for support that they would condemn their future. In the now, Sidney was searching his face for an answer. Dewey smiled, weakly but for the first time in hours. 

“I think I’ll have to see what Gale says.” Sidney rolled her eyes but she smiled as well, and as he watched the demon sank back into her skin, leaving her as just Sidney Prescott once again. 

“Alright,” she said, laughing. “Alright. I’ll bet you anything that she’s going to say yes.” 

“We’ll see,” Dewey said with a small, nervous laugh. He didn’t dare take that bet. Together they walked out of the park and into a night that was suddenly less sinister, less unwelcoming. Dewey could almost taste that promised freedom, unfamiliar though it was. Somehow the demon’s eyes were still on him, he could feel it, and he had no idea if he minded or not. He looked at Sidney and he saw how strong she looked, how happy. How alive. 

It hit him suddenly, like a bolt, and he was helpless against it: he wanted to be alive again. Hesitating slightly Dewey reached out and grasped Sidney’s hand. She smiled and gave it a little squeeze. Then, together, they walked into the dark of the night, heads held high. Free. 


End file.
